The Magician Games
by lady-in-spain
Summary: Now, I knew I had been right. There was no ounce of happiness left to consume. Nothing could fix the state I was in. Nothing would save me. Nothing would save this world. Utter destruction was coming, and the Magician Games was only the start.
1. We Are Broken

**A/N: First of all, this story is very different from the series. I hope that doesn't stop you though. This story is mainly about **_**Hermione**_**. Keep that in mind. Two, I'm sure you all know about the prophecy, and all that stuff about how it could have been Neville instead of Harry. In my version, it **_**was**_** Neville with the lightning bold scar. But, he was killed during the 6****th**** book, when he was finally defeated by Voldemort. Three, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were close friends of Neville's and they helped him fight and whatnot, so they are still the skilled and hardcore wizards and witch we all know and love. Four, Harry still lost his parents when he was young. They were killed by Death Eaters, since they had been part of the Order. I hope all these changes don't stop you from reading on, because it's actually quite a good story.**

**The idea of this story is very identical to the Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins, though no Hunger Games characters will partake in the story. Only the ideas are similar. But nonetheless, I own nothing, just a few changes and titles. The rest belongs to the wonderful Suzanne Collins, and J.K. Rowling. **

**Anyways, read on! **

_We are broken, _

_What must we do to restore our innocence?_

_And all the promise we adore_

_Give us life again_

'_Cause we just want to be home_

_-Paramore, We Are Broken_

I don't think it's possible for there to be an ounce of happiness left in the world. Not in our current state, not in the near future even. It is impractical. The Superiors will not allow it. The Death Eaters will not allow it. _Lord_ Voldemort will not allow it.

I have come to the conclusion that there is no hope whatsoever. Our world, muggle & wizarding world, has been shattered. Muggles are oblivious to the dark magic surrounding them, passing it off as war, as an apocalypse. Wizards are being killed, tortured, deprived of love and life itself. Ever since last year, everything has been completely different. Ever since _Lord_ Voldemort killed Albus Dumbledore with a flick of his wand. Ever since Neville Longbottom was killed so that _Lord_ Voldemort could live and prosper. So that he could take over the Ministry of Magic, fill it with his followers we were to call The Superiors, who are so cruel and wicked, no one dares to cross them. _Lord_ Voldemort now takes is throne as dictator of the wizarding world, of all magical creatures it contains. The Death Eaters prowl among us, making sure we follow the laws of the Dark Lord, keeping us in line, occasionally killing us for no apparent reasons.

Those who choose to not follow His law receive a punishment worse than death. They are taken to the new Azkaban, where they are tortured day to day by the Cruciatis Curse, not given any meals, and eventually have their souls taken by the Dementors. And it is all arranged by the Superiors. They consist of five monarchs, one from each of the most powerful races in the wizarding world; Lucius Malfoy, wizard, Fenrir Greyback, werewolf, Dominique Fier, vampire, Esclairia Morgenstern, veela, and Maleficent Axel, witch & parseltongue.

But the worst thing they may have done so far is that all wizarding schools have been taken over. All principles and half of the staff must be Death Eaters. Hogwarts' Headmistress is now Bellatrix Lestrange, and there are 10 Death Eater teachers. But since my parents are dead, and I've been staying with Harry and the Weasleys, I've got no choice but to attend my 7th year at Hogwarts. I never thought I'd _not_ want to go to that school. I had also been appointed Head Girl, but with Draco Malfoy as Head Boy.

I thought about all of this during the train ride of the Hogwarts Express. Harry and Ron were conversing quietly by my side, but I didn't tune into the conversation. Most conversations these days were about the killing of so and so, and I just couldn't take that anymore. My body was filled with dread when the train came to a stop in Hogsmeade station. I didn't want to be here at all. I sighed and slung my bag over my shoulder. Ron took my hand and gave me a reassuring squeeze as we exited the train and unload onto the platform. Thankfully, Hagrid still kept his job as groundkeeper. He loomed over the crowds of people, shepherding first years. But the sight of a half giant isn't what kept all the students silent. It's the Death Eaters marauding around us, giving us death glares through their skeletal masks, which chill you to the bone. Us three along with a few other Gryffindors took a carriage led by thestrals up to the castle. Now that I've seen countless deaths, they're visible to me. But I really wish I couldn't see them, because they're a reminder of every death I've seen, a memory I've tried to bury in the depths of my mind.

The Great Hall was beautiful in its grandeur, but not as beautiful as it's been before. Something was off about it, an aura that screamed it's full of traces of dark magic and whatnot. Throughout the sorting, Bellatrix and most of the staff (the Death Eaters) wore expressions of boredom and irritation. Some old teachers of Hogwarts were still there, smiling slightly. McGonagall, Hagrid, Flitwick, Bins, and Sprout had all stayed with the school, no doubt threatened by the Superiors. When the last child was sorted, the Headmistress rose and approached the podium that had steel snakes carved into it, instead of the bronze one Dumbledore had preferred.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Bellatrix's shrill voice rung out through the room, "This is my first year as your Headmistress and it won't be my last," her voice was like a lazy, high pitched drawl, "Now I expect you to make it a pleasant and _smooth_ year. And if just one of you steps out of line, you will be punished to the extreme."

Harry shook his head in disgust and rolled his eyes, but in bad timing.

"Potter!" Bellatrix shrieked from the podium. A streak of red beams almost smacked Harry right on the head, "_You will look at me while I am talking to you!_" Harry mumbled an incoherent apology. "As I was saying," Bellatrix growled, her teeth bared, "This year will be unlike any other you've had here at this _wretched_ school. The government has advised us to hold a contest this year, _almost_ similar to the Triwizard Tournament. The contest is called the Magician Games. 4 6th to 7th students will be chosen from each four houses. The sixteen of them will be the competitors of our little game.

There are eight levels to the contest. Each level, two will be taken out of the game, either by death, or their level of weakness. The final level is between the last two competitors." Bellatrix's voice was quiet and eerie now, and people caught their breath at this statement. By _death_? "All 16 students will stay not in their House dormitories, but in an apartment especially for them. The Quidditch field has been altered to act as arena, for this contest. And you all will be able to watch. The contestant's names will be announced Friday at dinner." Nobody talked. Nobody even moved. "Well then, off you go, out of my face, you rodents," Bellatrix shouted, waving us off. Everyone rushed to get up and flee to their dormitories. I followed Ron and Harry, clasping Ron's hand tightly. At least I've still got my boyfriend and best friend. Just outside the Great Hall, I slammed into a hard body, knocking me onto my butt on the stone ground.

Draco Malfoy turned to look back at me on the floor and smirk.

Then he did the weirdest thing. He reached down, grasped my arm, and pulled me into a standing position.

"Watch where you're going Granger," he snickered. As Head Boy, he has to lead two sets of first years to their dormitories. I find the other two sets, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and lead them to their dormitories. After the Ravenclaws get settled, I brought the Gryffindors to our tower. Harry and Ron were waiting outside, looking worried. Once they spot me, they're expressions turn to relief.

"Wattlebird," I said to the Fat Lady. She swung open, and the first years fled into the common room. I turned to Harry and Ron.

"So I guess I'll see you two at Breakfast tomorrow. Yes?" I asked them. They nodded.

"Just be careful, Hermione," Harry warned me.

"Yeah, I mean, you're stuck with _Malfoy_," Ron said with a sigh, "But I've got no doubt you know many more hexes than he does." I smiled and hugged them both, before heading off to my "new" room. The Head Boy and Head Girl's room was located in the hallway next to the Headmistress', in a tower much like the Gryffindor one. The password was _Riddle Victorious_. I tried not to gag when I said it. The entrance was behind a painting of a princess in the window of a grand tower. She smiled at me, then swung inward. Inside, the common room was very splendid. There were various couches, armchairs, and small wooden tables. The room was decorated in mixes of silver and green, and gold and crimson. To my complete disgust, Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were tangled on one of the couches, playing tonsil hockey. I averted my gaze and made my way up to my room, the one with the crimson and gold staircase.

It was the nicest room I had even stayed in, easily. Everything was covered in crimson and gold, decorated with grand tapestries, a four poster bed, a couch, a fireplace, a plush armchair, a closet with a vanity inside of it, and a master bathroom. All my stuff had been neatly put away and my trunk lay in front of my bed. I didn't have any homework yet, so I changed into my normal sleeping clothes; a simple tank top and my old soccer shorts, from the muggle team I had played for in the summer of fifth and sixth year. I then pulled my curls into a sloppy ponytail, grabbed the current book I was reading, and settled onto my luxurious bed. I drowned myself in my muggle fantasy book, City of Bones, wishing I had lived in a world of Nephilim instead of _this_ world. The book was compelling and it took me 200 some pages before I could put it down and go to sleep.

As usual, my dreams were filled with replays of the night Harry, Ron, and I had helped Neville try to defeat Voldemort. I screamed in terror as I watched my parents get murdered horrifically. I watched as the green light struck Neville and he fell to the ground. But my screaming was cut off by a bright light behind my eyelids. My eyes snapped open. I was still in my bed, sweat beading down my face as I panted. Then I noticed the lights were on.

"What the hell, Granger?!" Malfoy asked, standing in the doorway. His blond hair was disheveled from sleep. "Your screaming doesn't help my sleeping, you know!" I rolled my eyes and fell back on to my pillows.

"Get out of my room, Malfoy," I retorted simply. He started to say something, but I sat up and fixed him with my glare. "Get out of my room." He glared back at me for a long moment, his grey eyes furious. Without warning, he slammed the door behind him loudly. I laid back down and curled up on my side. It was 4 in the morning. I willed myself to go back to sleep, but it wouldn't come. I sighed, rolled onto my back, and read my book some more.

Halfway through the book, my mental alarm rang. I got up and got ready for the first day of term, showering, slipping on my robes and Head Girl badge, and brushing out my hair. It had grown longer during the summer, and I never got the chance to cut it. It now flowed to the middle of my back. I sighed at my reflection. I was so pale, I needed a tan. And my skin was stretched, pulled tight over my cheekbones, collarbones. With a final sigh, I slung my bag over my shoulder, tucked my wand into my pocket, and exited my room, City of Bones in my hand. Just as I was about to exit the Common Room, Professor McGonagall entered the room, standing up and brushing off her robes.

"Ah, Granger," she said, adjusting her spectacles, "Good morning to you. Is Mal- Oh!" she exclaimed as Malfoy descended his staircase, "Morning Malfoy. Come now, hurry," she said, beckoning for him to stand in front of her like I was. "Now, here are your class schedules," she said, handing us each white papers, "And here's a schedule of your duties for the year," she handed us two papers covered front to back, "I'll have you know though, your duties have been very diminished due to staff and government reasons, so it should be –ahem- simple year for you two." She emphasized _you two_. Just as she turned to leave, I asked a question.

"Professor?" she turned to address me.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"This contest… the Magician Games? Does it apply to Head Boy & Head Girl as well?" I couldn't help my anxiousness. Professor McGonagall took off her spectacles and polished them, putting them back on before answering.

"Yes, I'm afraid it does. I wish you luck, though." With that, she exited the room, the portrait swinging shut behind her. Malfoy brushed past me to leave, as I surveyed my schedule.

_Tuesdays:_

_Academic Charms with the Ravenclaws_

_Potions with the Ravenclaws_

_Ancient Runes with the Hufflepuffs_

_LUNCH_

_Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins_

_Transfiguration with the Slytherins_

_Astronomy with the Slytherins (9:00) _

I met Harry and Ron in the Great Hall, squeezing between them and helping myself to breakfast.

"How's your schedule?" I asked them. They mumbled responses between their mouths full of food.

"How's yours?" Harry asked, pouring himself pumpkin juice.

"Good, except I have 9 PM Astronomy with the Slytherins," I responded as I dug into my breakfast.

"Ooh, harsh," Ron said with a wince. I was just about to reply, when bunches of owls swooped down from the ceiling, dropping parcels onto the tables. An edition of the Daily Prophet landing right before me, splashing Dean Thomas with orange juice. I apologized hastily, unfolding to the first page.

_O GUILIN PUT IN AZKABAN FOR PROTESTING GAMES_

_Reginald O Guilin, Transfiguration administrator of Beauxbatons school was locked up in Azkaban Monday night for protesting against the Magician Games. The Magician Games is a contest that will occur in all wizarding schools. 16 contestants are chosen for the Games, which have 8 levels of different tasks. The winner is granted a gift that will be revealed at the last level of the Games. _

_O Guilin quoted, "I refuse to force my loyal and loving students to join a contest based on the cruelty and wickedness of the Superiors, and Voldemort himself." Death Eater Macnair captured O Guilin at his house in France, and then brought him to repent in front of the Superiors. O Guilin refused, "I will not take back my actions, I will die with honor, that I have stood up for what is good in this immoral world you have damned us to live in." His words received him countless Cruciatis Curses, before he was transferred to Azkaban. _

I let Harry tug the paper away from me, as I stared down at my hands.

"This is ridiculous," Harry muttered slapping the folded up paper back onto the wooden table.

"Who do you reckon will be chosen?" Ron asked quietly, pushing food around his plate with his fork. I looked up and shook my head.

"Who knows," I mumbled, before bidding them a grim goodbye and heading to my first period Charms class. Usually, I loved classes and learning. Now, it seemed the classes were unbearable. This whole school was now unbearable. I couldn't stand to even think of all the changes. Wednesday and Thursday went by very slowly, stretching out the anxiety of all students, including the Slytherins. No one even dared to speak of the Magician Games. They were either disgusted by it, scared to object and get in trouble for it, or just plain scared to even talk about it. Thursday night at dinner, the hall was nearly silent.

"Maybe I can help you study tonight?" Ron inquired in my ear. I felt myself blush furiously. Ron chuckled. I nodded, still looking down at my food. After dinner, Ron and I bid Harry goodbye, as he talked with Cho Chang. It wasn't exactly against the rules to bring your boyfriend into your personal common room, but no teacher had ever warned us about it. Thankfully, Draco was either in his room, or somewhere with a bunch of Slytherins, so once we entered the lavish common room, nothing stopped me from twining my arms around Ron's neck and kissing him fiercely. They hadn't had an ounce of time together since summer, and even then his siblings never left them alone for a good amount of time. Ron pulled away then, leading me to the couch in front of the fire place.

"I've never liked studying so much," he chuckled as I curled up to him. He placed an arm around me and I laid my head against his chest. We were quiet for a few comfortable moments. "You alright, Hermione?" Ron asked finally, kissing my hair. I shook my head and embarrassingly enough, a tear leaked out and down my cheek. Ron pulled away only to look at me. He laid his hand on my cheek and brushed the tear away, even though a few more came without warning. "Don't cry. Everything will be fine," he tried to assure me. I shook my head.

"No it won't," I said, my voice breaking. "Never, nothing will ever be fine." Ron pulled me back to him, hugging me tight. "What if I'm chosen? Or you? Or Harry?"

"I wish I could say we'll be safe, but I'm not going to lie to you," Ron muttered darkly, "But if one of us is chosen…we're just going to have to fight until we can be safe once again." I let that sink in, trying to convince myself. Then, I pulled away, only to pull Ron down on top of me and kiss him again. Just maybe, this could be our last kiss. So I reveled in it, knotting my hands in his hair and sighing as his warm lips kissed down my throat, and back up to my lips. Just as we were getting a bit carried away, someone cleared their throat too loudly. I broke away with a gasp, and Ron swiveled his head around to glare accusingly at the intruder.

Malfoy stood with a half amused, half disgusted expression on his face.

"Well, aren't we feisty, Granger?" He taunted, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking.

"Go away, Malfoy," I snapped at him. He raised an eyebrow and sat down in one of the armchairs.

"I'll stay right here, thanks." I groaned and sat up. Ron stood and buttoned up his shirt. I handed him his book bag.

"See you in the morning," I said lamely.

"'Night," he said, swooping down to kiss me on the cheek. After the hole swung shut behind him, I exploded.

"What the hell is your problem, Malfoy?!" I asked him angrily. He stood up.

"_My_ problem? I didn't actually care to see or hear you two about to have sex on the couch right outside my bedroom, mudblood!" he shot back.

"I'd never do such a thing! Unlike you and Parkinson last night!"

"Mind your own business!"

"Then _you_ mind _yours!_" We just stared at each other with blazing eyes, my face twisted in rage and irritation, his twisted into his trademark smirk. "Stop smirking at me!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" he retorted irately.

"Don't order me around!"

"Don't act like you're the boss!"

"Don't tell me how to act!"

"You're ridiculous!"

"You're an idiot!" I yelled back.

"You're annoying!"

"You're infuriating!"

"You're such a _Gryffindor!_"

"You're such a _Slytherin!_"

"You're such a mudblood!"

"You're such a Death Eater!"

"Well you're hot!"

"Well you're gorgeous!"

"UGH!"

"UGH!"

I stormed off to my room, slamming my shoulder against Malfoy's. I slammed the door behind me and threw my bed onto my bag, pacing around my room angrily. Then I stopped.

Wait.

We had just complimented each other. Though it had followed a stream of insults, we had _never_ said one nice thing to each other. Ever. Not that it was said in a complimenting tone, but still. He had called me hot. And I had called him gorgeous. Why did I have to pick such a suiting word? Why couldn't I have said _good looking?_ Or _cute?_

Whatever. It didn't matter if he was good looking. He was still the prejudiced idiot I'd always been enemies with. Nothing could possibly change that.

.


	2. Shadow of the Day

_And the shadow of the day_

_Will embrace the world in grey_

_And the sun will set for you_

_-Linkin Park, Shadow of the Day_

Wednesday and Thursday passed dreadfully. Students hardly spoke. Either because they were afraid, didn't know what to say, or didn't want to get caught bad mouthing the Superiors. Barely anyone smiled. First, second, third, fourth, and fifth years kept out of the upper classmen's way, careful not to strike a nerve. It seemed as if each student had become impossibly fragile, able to snap in an instant, including the Slytherins. These games would be horrific, 10 or a 100 times worse than the Triwizard Tournament.

By Friday, I felt so weak I thought I was going to collapse. My bones felt wobbly, replaced with strings, so that each movement was controlled by a ventriloquist. I had barely spoken with Harry and Ron. There wasn't much we could say to each other. No one dared say, "don't worry" or "it'll be alright", because we knew that was a big fat lie, and we'd be crazy not to worry.

I was sitting in Transfiguration now, my last class of the day. Professor McGonagall was explaining heatedly how to make a pumpkin dance. Without really thinking what I was doing, my hand shot up into the air. McGonagall's eyes darted over to me, and she cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" she drawled.

"I was uh, wondering, Professor," I started off hesitantly. She urged me to go on. "How are the contestants chosen?" She seemed taken aback by the question, but she composed herself, and gave a loud sigh.

"I may as well explain," she muttered. "Each head of house will be instructed to wear the Sorting Hat. The Hat then rifles through all the students, choosing the four that most suit their house founder." _Most suits their house's founder_, I thought over and over again. My thoughts kept drifting to Harry. He was the most brave, noble, trustworthy person I'd ever known. Just like Godric Gryffindor.

But I didn't have much time to think about it because then, class had ended and dinner would be in half an hour. We would be told the names of 16 students that had a high chance of not making it to graduation, in half an hour.

I felt dizzy.

Harry and Ron went off the put their stuff away in the Gryffindor Tower. Reluctantly, I made my way to the Head Prefect's tower. I entered to find Malfoy standing halfway to his staircase. He didn't seem to know I had entered. His cloak lay on the floor beneath him. His book bag and several pieces of papers and books littered the floor, like he had dropped them all. He was staring at his right forearm. I gasped. On his pale, flawless skin, from his wrist to his elbow, was red curving writing, like the type Umbridge used to punish kids. Except he wasn't writing with a quill. He was staring at the writing in frustration, his eyes hard and angry. I rushed forward to see what had happened, but once I moved, Malfoy's eyes flashed to mine, and the flames ceased, though there was now a pinkish scar.

"What are you looking at, mudblood?" he sneered. I crossed my arms over my chest.

"What just happened?" I asked defiantly, glaring at him.

"Nothing of your concern," he answered simply, bending to pick up his things.

"That red inflamed writing on your hand!" I half shouted. "I've read about that…" I said, lowering my voice a bit, "That's Dark Magic. Someone's sent you a message, haven't they? Dear daddy, perhaps?" I smirked, rolling my eyes and making my way to the staircase. _Guess no one can get in trouble for using Dark Arts anymore, considering the school's practically run by them. _ Halfway there, something yanked me back by my collar. I gagged, and was spun around to face Malfoy. He looked utterly lethal, infuriated. His grey, almost silvery eyes were narrowed, blazing. His black, intricately carved wand was pointed at the base of my throat. I refused to show fear, glaring back at him with all the anger I could muster.

"Don't you _dare_ speak to me about my father," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"You can't give me permission to talk about certain topics, Malfoy," I retorted venomously. I took the chance to glance at his forearm. The pink scars obtruded from his skin, in neat, cursive writing. Malfoy jerked me so that I was looking at him again, and shook his arm so that his sleeve covered the writing.

"Speak to me about _him_ again, and I swear you will regret it," he threatened menacingly. Before I could even think of how to respond, he let me go roughly, making his way swiftly up his staircase. I tried my hardest to not march up to his room and hex him. Instead, I stomped up to my room, making it a point to slam my door so hard, I was almost positive it would come off its hinges.

After stowing away my bag and books and neatening up my room, I made my way down to the Great Hall. I took a seat at the Gryffindor table. Harry and Ron had not arrived yet. The Hall was silent, as usual. You could hear a spoon clatter onto a plate from across the room. Most of the teachers seated along the staff table looked smug. Bellatrix was grinning that horrible smile of hers, her black curls put up elegantly. Harry and Ron finally entered, taking seats on each side of me.

"Hey," I greeted them. They both muttered responses, piling food onto their plates. I just nibbled on a salad, not really trusting myself to stomach something. After everyone seemed to be done, and all the utensils and platters of food had vanished, Bellatrix stood and strode to her podium.

The Great Hall double doors then flew open, to reveal Professor McGonagall. She was holding the old Sorting Hat, and she walked briskly forward, settling it on a small stool in front of the silver podium. The long staff table had vanished, as well as everyone's chairs besides Bellatrix's large and posh throne. McGonagall then stood beside Bellatrix, who nodded at McGonagall and stood up, approaching the podium.

"Evening, students," she said in her glass cutting voice, a malicious smile on her blood red lips. She wore her usual outfit; a long, tight fitting black and purple lacy dress. "It's the night we've _all_ been waiting for! I'm sure you're all just so _excited_," she hissed the word, "This is how it will work. Each head of house will put on this ratty old hat, which will tell them the names of the four contestants that will represent that certain house. The ones chosen will take their places up here on the platform. Heads of house, please rise." Four professors stood, taking their places; two on each side of the throne. Professor McGonagall; head of Gryffindor, Professor Flitwick; Head of Ravenclaw, Professor Sprout; Head of Hufflepuff, & Professor Vyril, Head of Slytherin. Apparently, the _new_ teachers only held a liking for Slytherin.

"We will begin with Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, & then Gryffindor," Bellatrix finished. She stepped back, taking her seat. Professor Sprout nervously stepped forward. Professor Jefersson, the new Astronomy teacher stepped forward to place the hat on Professor Sprout's gray wiry hair. Everyone watched in curious silence as Professor Sprout's expressions changed from ranges of fear, anger, sorrow, and shock. After about five minutes, her face closed down, and she looked at her lap. She wiped at her eyes, sniffling softly. The Sorting Hat spoke then.

"The first Hufflepuff representative will be," it started in it's raspy voice, "6th year, _Carson McRent!_" There were gasps, yelps, and Bellatrix clapped excitedly. Everyone else joined in slowly. I watched in horror, as Carson, a pretty blond girl, made her way up to the front. Tears were streaming down her face, and she kept he hands curled into fists at her sides. A teacher placed her right before the platform steps. She stood looking down at her shoes, wiping away tears but never sniffling, just silent.

"Second Hufflepuff representative is… _6th year James Macoby!" _ It seemed only a few people were clapping now, mostly the teachers. James took his place by Carson. He was lanky and weak looking, and he was crying softly.

"This Hufflepuff representative is… _6__th__ year Kirsten Cyrus!" _Kirsten was a tall, awkward looking girl. She stumbled up next to James reluctantly. She covered her face in her hands. At her appearance, I promised myself if I _was picked,_ I would do my best not to cry. I would be brave and strong, until I had the chance to cry alone. I caught Bellatrix rolling her eyes at the sobbing girl.

"Last Hufflepuff representative is… _7__th__ year Frederick Merison!" _ I knew Frederick. I watched sadly as he walked up slowly. He was the captain of the Hufflepuff Qudditch team. He was smart, a prefect that had almost gotten position of Head Boy, coming in third place. Bellatrix clapped loudly, her smile growing wider.

"Congratulations, students! Next!" she ordered. Professir Flitwick took his seat on the stool, his short legs dangling. Professor Jefersson placed the large hat upon his head. Just like Sprout, Professor Flitwick's face changed, according to whatever the Sorting Hat was saying to him. He gasped at last, and shook his head anxiously.

"First Ravenclaw representative is… _7__th__ year Johnathan Von Taylor!" _Johnathan was a cocky, smart, and handsome boy. He was rather annoying. He walked purposefully up to the other four students, actually _smiling_ as he took his place.

"Second Ravenclaw representative is… _6__th__ year Jane Rosen!" _The girl named Jane stood nervously, looking unsure about what to do. Her friend gave her a squeeze and she nodded, making her way up to the front, a few tears escaping.

"Third Ravenclaw representative is… _7__th__ year Russel Turpin!" _

"Last Ravenclaw representative is… _7__th__ year Avril Sedrid!"_

"Next!" Bellatrix ordered after Avril took her place. Professor Vyril swaggered up to the stool and placed the hat on his head himself. He grinned cockily the whole time. The Sorting hat seemed to _chuckle_ before talking.

"The first Slytherin representative is," it started excitedly. "_7__th__ year Isabella Rocford!"_ A sly looking girl with beautiful features stood, impassive, and made her way to the platform steps swiftly.

"The second Slytherin representative is… _7__th__ year Blaise Zabini!" _ Zabini looked utterly shocked. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously as he took his position.

"The third Slytherin representative is… _7__th__ year Natalie Aislinn!" _ I had never met the girl. I had heard a lot though. She was supposedly a female Draco Malfoy. She stood now, smirking. She had black, straight hair and blunt bangs, and pale skin. She looked sharp, jagged, but beautiful all the same. She made her way to the front with confident steps.

"And our last Slytherin representative is… _7__th__ year Draco Malfoy!" _ I could easily say everyone gasped. Draco Malfoy?! That couldn't be possible. His father was a Superior. He would never be subjected to a life or death situation, not while his father could prevent it. The teachers all seemed shocked as well, as a smirking Malfoy made his way up to the platform, taking his spot beside Natalie. It took Bellatrix a moment longer to call out _next. _Professor McGonagall took her position, and the hat was placed upon her head. Her expression was emotionless throughout it all. My heart was beating rapidly, uncontrollably.

"Our first Gryffindor representative is… _6__th__ year Dominique Estelle!" _ Dominique was a smart, sweet girl that I had talked to only a few times. Gryffindors patter her on the back and urged her forward.

"Our second Gryffindor representative is… _7__th__ year Jacob Lighster!" _ Jacob stood without protest, and took his spot beside Dominique. My heart was beating way too fast now.

"Our third Gryffindor representative is… _7__th__ year Harry Potter!" _I gasped, turning to look at Harry. His face was twisted into a mask of pain and anger, but not fear. He looked brave and noble. I shook my head at him, tears threatening to release. He just kissed me on the cheek, gave Ron a shoulder squeeze, and made his way up to the platform. He clasped his hands behind his back and stared forward. Ron was holding me, and I was shaking, trying my best to hold in the tears. The whole Hall was silent, in awe.

"And lastly, our fourth Gryffindor representative is… _7__th__ year Hermione Granger!" _ I hardly noticed that my name had been called out. I was too busy trying not to cry for Harry. But then realization set in. I didn't think I could move. But I did, robotically. I stood and squeezed Ron's hand, before making my way up to the other contestants. It seemed as if the whole Hall was holding their breath. When I stood beside Harry to face the students, one tear escaped. I couldn't focus on one face. Everything was blurred, black spots edging my vision. I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my skin.

Now, I knew I had been right. There was no ounce of happiness left to consume. Nothing could fix the state I was in. Nothing would save me. Nothing would save this world. Utter destruction was coming, and the Magician Games was only the start.


	3. Conspiracy

**A/N: Just to let you all know, I've made a slight change in chapter 1. The change is that there are 8 levels, not just 6. Real sorry about that! **

_I think about how we are so focused on the peril presented by the Forest that we forget that the rest of life can be just as dangerous. I think about how fragile we are here –like fish in a glass bowl with darkness pressing in on every side. _

_Carrie Ryan, the Forest of Hands and Teeth _

I tried not to blanch and keep my face impassive as Granger made her way up to the platform steps. Her face was contorted into an expression of restraint and pain.

_A muggleborn?_ I thought, _How could _she _be identical to Godric Gryffindor? He was no Salazar Slytherin, but he was a _pureblood.

None of these imbeciles stood a chance in this contest. In the end, it would come down to Slytherin against Slytherin. Possibly myself versus Natalie Aislinn. None of the other contestants had a drive to actually fight, to bring down each other with no guilt. Granger took her spot next to Potter. I tried not to snort in disgust as one tear streaked down her cheek. Bellatrix stood then, taking her spot at her podium. All contestants turned to face her. She was grinning her trademark wicked smile, looking completely like the loony she was, my aunt.

"Well, congratulations students," she said happily, "Professor McGonagall will lead you to your _new_ dorms." McGonagall arranged us into a single file. All the other students gaped at us, open mouthed, faces full of pity. Like I need that. So I smirked at them, waving at the proud looking Slytherins.

We were led out of the Great Hall and through the large oak doors, onto the outside grounds. We were headed to the Quidditch pitch. I forced my face to show no signs that I was impressed, but it was hard. The Quidditch pitch had been transformed into a larger arena of just stone. It was empty, for now. The stands still surrounded the arena, and on the west side of the Quidditch pitch was a large brick building. Our new dormitories. It looked like a mini castle. The entrance was through caramel wood colored doors. We emerged onto a very fancy looking foyer, draped in Hogwarts school colors. Professor McGonagall stopped us before the grand, marble staircase, fixing us with sympathetic, yet stern looks.

"Evening, students," she greeted us tiredly, "Upstairs you will find four doors. Each has a sign of your house. Beyond the doors are 4 more doors for each contestants. All your belongings have been transferred." She lifted her arm to point down the left hallway. "Down that way is your dining hall. Classes will not resume for you 16, for your training begins tomorrow. You will be ready by 9:00 and meet me back down here. Training will last two weeks, and the third week is when the Games start. You each have a set of various training clothes in your room. Get comfortable, I suggest." With that she swept down the right hallway, and all 16 students just stood breathlessly for a few minutes, before climbing the sleek stairs. I entered the green and silver Slytherin door, which led to a replica of our common room. Four more doors were towards the back of the room. They each had our names labeled on the front. I cautiously pushed open my door, not bothering to acknowledge the other 3 Slytherins. The room was very grand, with a big king sized bed, everything draped in silver and green. My trunk was laid in front of the bed. There was a dresser in one corner, a door leading to a bathroom, a tall wardrobe and two glass doors leading out to a balcony. First, I headed to the wardrobe, sure my training supplies had been stored in there. The doors opened with a slight creak. Half of the wardrobe had a railing, where 3 sets of clothes hung, and the other half were shelves. The three outfits that had been hung were similar to Quidditch robes, or the ones the contestants of the Triwizard Tournament had worn. They were made of fine material, and colored green, black, and silver. The Slytherin crest was on the front, and on the back, in silver, was the name _Malfoy_. On the bottom shelves were more clothes, just shirts and pants that were colored in Slytherin colors. Probably our training clothes. On the top shelves were countless _weapons_.

_Why would we need those? We had wands!_

There were two small daggers, two long blades, a few small knives, a sturdy roll of rope, a black backpack, and other various supplies. Them giving us these supplies could only mean one thing. On one level, we would actually need them. Would our wands not suffice? But I didn't get any further into my thoughts, because someone started banging on my door. It flew open, Zabini standing there with an amused and anxious expression.

"Draco, come quick," he demanded, heading back out to the common room. I raised an eyebrow, slipped my wand back up my sleeve, and followed him out the door. Now I knew what had gotten him amused and worried.

Against the wall was Isabella Rocford, pinned by Natalie Aislinn, who's black wand, wound with gold, was digging into the base of Isabella's bony collarbones. Isabella was baring her teeth at Natalie, furious, but not scared. Slytherins never got _scared_. Natalie was smiling wickedly, threateningly.

"She's threatened to _crucio_ her," Blaise muttered.

"Why?" I asked incredulously. The Games hadn't even started yet!

"Ridley cheated on her with Bella." I rolled my eyes.

"I swear, I'll do it!" Natalie hissed, pressing the point of the wand deeper in. Pretty impressive. I lazily took out my wand.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ I exclaimed. Natalie's wand flew out of her grip, and she flew back to collide into an emerald green armchair. Her wand flew to my possession. She immediately stood, glaring at me. "Gee, Aislinn," I started, "Get over Ridley. If you want, I'd love to take his role." I winked at her, and twirled her wand between my fingers. She cocked an eyebrow and one side of her mouth quirked up. She made her way to me, stopping right before me.

"I thought you _didn't have a thing for black hair_," she sneered, repeating a phrase I had used to turn her down. I chuckled and pocketed her wand.

"True. I'm more of a _brunette _guy," I responded lazily.

"Is _that_ why you're always staring at the mudblood?" Natalie asked curiously, smiling innocently at me.

"That's disgusting," I spat venomously. Natalie just kept smiling, placing a hand on my shoulder as she said,

"Prove it."

It was obvious that as we Slytherins fooled around in our dorm, the other Houses were probably slitting their wrists. Good. They wouldn't win anyways.

That night, I had the same dream I had been having for about a month now. In my dream, I was down on my knees in the sitting room back in the Malfoy Manor. My father, Lucius was staring down at me, his wand inches away from my face.

"Take it back, Draco," he hissed angrily, his grey eyes an imitation of Draco's.

"No, father. I cannot," I stated boldly.

"I will _not_ allow you to bring shame to the family name, _insolent boy!_ Now take it back, or she will be done with!" I could remember I always felt horrible in that part of the dream, when I knew what he was talking about. I would feel fear for the _she_ he was referring to.

"I won't let you do that to her. I love her." After I said that, Lucius would exclaim,

"_Crucio!" _And the spell would hit me on full impact. I would fall over, writhing in pain, hearing my father's distant shouts of _take it back! _But somehow, in my dream, and when I would wake up panting, I would always know that the slicing, torturous pain of the _cruciatus _course was no where near as bad as the pain of how it would feel to lose _her, _whoever she was.

In the morning, after I showered and refreshed myself, I pulled on my new training clothes and laced up the fancy shoes. When I got downstairs, only Granger was there, her nose in a book, of course. Her training clothes were different though. It was gold and crimson, Gryffindor colors, and her shirt was a tank top, sleeveless. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and when I reached the end of the stairs, she looked up. Her expression twisted into one of disgust and irritation. She turned back to her book, not even bothering to shoot an insult at me.

"Ready for training, Granger?" I asked, smirking. "What's your special skill, page turning?" Her head snapped up, and she shut the book closed with a clap, placing it on the table besides her. "Very intimidating," I added.

"As opposed to –hmm, what is there- oh yes, torturing people for fun?" She retorted, raising her eyebrows. "Or is that just a hobby? Yes, your _skill_ is probably murdering muggleborns for the sake of your boredom. Correct?"

"No," I snapped angrily, "not even close." We glared angrily at each other. Slowly, more people started to drift down the stairs. Dominique shot up a conversation, so Granger finally looked away. Blaise appeared at my side, starting up some lame conversation that I was hardly paying attention to. Natalie descended the stairs, slithering her hand up to my shoulder and giving me a peck on the cheek. Then, she darted away, conversing quietly with Isabella. That's Slytherins for you. Enemies one minute, acquaintances the next.

Professor McGonagall entered the room from the left hallway then, a stack of papers in her hand.

"Ah, good morning students," she greeted us. "Hope you had a peaceful slumber. I'll lead you to breakfast now." We followed her through the hallway she had emerged from. It led into a wide expansion of four circular tables. In the middle of each table was an array of mouth watering food. Almost immediately, each house claimed a table. I piled food onto my plate, suddenly hungry. In a way, I liked this better than eating in the Great Hall. People were always surrounding me, sucking up to me about this or that. Here, I could eat in silence.

_Or not_, I thought, as Blaise started talking.

"How do you think this training will go, Draco?" he asked me, then took a big bite out of his toast.

"Kick ass," I responded, still shoveling food into my mouth. After a few minutes, I sat back against my chair, exhaling. "That was good," I stated. Everyone else seemed to be done eating, and was speaking quietly. I looked around, surveying my competitors. The Hufflepuff contestants looked simply terrified, except for Frederick Merison. The Ravenclaws looked curious and anxious. Then, the Gryffindors. It irritated me how calm they looked, like this was something they did everyday and they weren't scared in the least. The other three Slytherins looked simply cocky, arrogant. After breakfast, McGonagall lead us outside, and over to the Quidditch pitch. It wasn't a stone bowl anymore. It was divided into different stations, large and tough looking wizards or witches at each station. The stations ranged from weaponry, to tying knots, to hexing dummies. McGonagall stopped in front of us then.

"This is your training facility for the next two weeks. Each station will help you practice a different skill. I know most of you are wondering why you would need to practice weaponry and whatnot. Here's just an idea; you might not always have your wand to help you. Go ahead, now." With that, she brushed past us, back up to the school probably. Everyone seemed to just stand there, gaping around them. I rolled my eyes and strode toward a slightly buff man, who's station consisted of five targets and assortments of different bows and arrows. The man smiled and nodded at me.

"Travis," he said, offering his hand. I took it and shook.

"Draco Malfoy." He didn't seem to flinch or anything at the name, which made me actually respect him.

"Every tried archery before?"

"No, can't say I have."

"Well, you'll be a professional by the time I'm done with you," Travis told me with a warm smile. I gave a half smile back. He picked up various supplies from the table and came around to help me put the bow and arrow in the right position and slipped a leather grip onto two of my fingers. The weapon felt perfect beneath my fingers, it felt right.

"Now, perfect your aim," Travis instructed, clasping my hands and positioning them better. He nudged my legs as well, fixing them into a correct standing arrangement. I squinted one eye to focus on one red circular target. "When you're ready, pull the arrow back and release." I nodded, and once again righted my aim. Then, I drew the arrow back as I took a deep breath, and breathing out, I let it go. It shot through the air with a whistling sound, and sunk deep into the bulls eye. I smirked at Travis' shocked expression.

"Are you sure you're new to this?" He asked, chuckling and shaking his head. I nodded, chuckling as well. Just my luck. He jogged towards the targets and moved three back a few feet. "Try now." I nodded, and grabbed another arrow. I remembered the way Travis had showed me how to place it, and did so. Perfect. I used my new technique, breathing in as I pulled the arrow back, and letting the air out as I released it. Once again, I hit it straight on. "You're a natural!" Travis bellowed happily. I couldn't help but smile. I had found my skill, I guess. And it certainly was _not_ torturing muggleborns like Granger had said.

"Well, I better go pick up some other skills," I intoned, placing the supplies back on the table. Travis nodded gleefully. I walked on, observing each station. I came across a station full of swords and long blades, and watched as Natalie decapitated a dummie's head. The next station was obviously mortal combat. Two bodies were engaged in an intense fight. All I could make out was a head of brown hair pulled into a knot, and a head of short, spiky blond hair. I watched as, from behind, the girl with the brown hair flung out her leg in a strong, powerful kick. The muscles in her back constricted, and her foot connected with a thud, sending the blond onto his back. The blond stood up. I noticed it was a woman, with short spiked hair. She was chuckling darkly, a hand on her stomach.

"That was one powerful kick," she said, shaking her head.

"Thanks," the brunette answered. My jaw dropped to the ground. _Granger?_ Like I had asked aloud, Granger spun around, a satisfied smile on her lips. When she caught me watching she smirked. "How's that for page turning?" she asked, brushing past me. I shook my head after a moment. _So what if she could fight? And so what if she looked hot while doing it? Like it really mattered. She'd be out of the Games within the first or second level. _

I made my way to a bunch of muggle training contraptions. I had experience with these, of course. It felt good to lift the heavy weights, to feel my muscles flex impressively. While lifting the weights, I thought about what other stations I should try out. I better learn how to handle a sword like Natalie, for if I came into contact with her, without a wand or arrows, I knew I'd be a goner. I should also learn how to tie knots. I had seen a few survival 101 stations. Possibly spend a few minutes there. I would visit the archery station daily, I decided. Mortal combat would be a useful one. Daggers as well. When my arm muscles started aching slightly, I sat up, sweat dripping down the side of my face. People were bustling around from station to station. I watched as Potter shot a curse at a dummie that sliced it into tiny pieces and collapsed to the ground. I grit my teeth and tried not to think about the fact that he actually did have a chance. I would win these Games. I would show my pathetic father and Lord Voldemort (the git) that I didn't need to be a _Death Eater _to succeed in something. I would win whatever the price was, and be honored by all wizards and witches. My father would worship me, but I would disrespect him, for I didn't need him if I had a million more worshipers. I would never need him. I was sick and tired of him making decisions for me. I was sick of him telling me what to do, how to live my life.

I sauntered over to the dagger station, hardly thinking about my actions as I picked up a shining dagger and threw it. It sailed through the air, hitting the middle of the target that I was imagining was my father's black heart.

The next days of training were just as satisfying as the first. I was a natural at archery and handling daggers. I studied up on the survival skills, learned to tie different types of knots, but though I was good at sword fighting, I could still use much practice. Just like the previous days, once we entered the arena on Friday morning, I headed to the archery station.

Just to find out someone had beat me there. Granger was there, conversing politely with Travis, who was explaining to her the history of archery, and the eras in which it was a very important weapon.

"Ah, Draco!" Travis beamed as I approached. I nodded, still annoyed that Granger beat me. "I'll be right with you, m'boy." Without a response, he started to slip the gear onto Hermione.

"Travis!" someone bellowed from behind us. We all whirled to find a very big man with a stern expression facing us from across the room. He beckoned for Travis to come to him, and started walking down the right, on the edge of the arena. Travis sighed.

"That's Lunmat calling. Draco, you wouldn't mind taking my position, would you now?" Both Hermione and I started to protest. "Nonsense, nonsense! Draco's almost as good as I am. I expect to see a bull's eye once I get back, Ms. Granger!" Then, he sped off after the big man, leaving us gaping after him. I turned to Hermione then, who was looking down stubbornly.

"You'll need to fix your position Granger," I advised her. "Feet apart, turn your body sideways, arrow between index and middle finger." Granger shifted around a bit. I groaned and approached her from the back. I reached forward to fix her shoulders, but then snatched my hands back at the last minute.

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" she asked, not facing me, "Oh, you don't like to touch muggleborns do you? I knew it." I reached out then, jerking her shoulders into position. My hands tingled when our skin made contact. But I highly doubted it was due to the fact that she wasn't a pureblood.

"Don't even start to think you know anything about me," I hissed in her ear. "You're grip's too lose." I reached out and clasped her hand, tightening her fingers around the bow. "Now, breathe in when you pull the arrow back." She did so, breathing in and holding her breath. "Now let go." Her fingers released the arrow as she released the breath, and the arrow sailed straight through the air, landing right on target. Crap, I had just taught her my technique. I removed my skin from hers, stepping back and crossing my arms over my chest. My palms were still tingling from where they had connected with her skin, and I had a sudden urge to place them back where they were. But I couldn't, and I wouldn't, because that was simply insane. So I clenched them into fists and merely walked away.

The rest of the day was a blur, and I was positive by dinner that by next week Monday, I'd have sword fighting perfected, just like everything else. Up in the common room, Natalie curled up to me. I didn't really get why she was getting so close to me lately, especially since we both knew it wasn't going to last. One of us would hurt the other one way or another.

"So, think you could teach me how you're so wonderful at archery?" She crooned. Then I noticed the reason I was just looking for. _Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. _Like I'd be that naïve to give her an advantage over me.

"No, you're much too good at sword fighting already," I responded plainly. Natalie raised an eyebrow.

"Granger's good at mortal combat, but you taught _her_ archery," she snapped, pulling away and giving me a pointed look.

"I had to, the instructor told me to," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Don't give me that Draco! I see the way you look at her!"

"Would you quit telling me how I look at her?!" I asked exasperatedly. "Because the way I look at her is the way I look at everybody else!" Natalie sprang up, and glared down at me.

"You know that's not true," she hissed. Then she smirked. "Guess it doesn't matter. She'll be done with anyways." With that, she left me breathless, her bedroom door slamming shut behind her.

_She'll be done with_.

The words rang in my head. The same words my father had spoken in my dream. And just when Natalie had said those 4 words, I felt the same fear I had felt when my father had spoken them. And this time, I knew who the _she_ was. And that terrified me as much as I was terrified for her fate.


	4. Crimson & Gold

"_Tears are the material out of which Heaven weaves its brightest rainbow."_

_F.B. Mayer _

I collapsed on my crimson and gold bed after a long, tiring day of training. The cushions felt good and comforting against my sore muscles. I was too tired to even get up and go take a shower. Somehow I did, though, and when I was in pajamas and had my teeth brushed, I laid down once more. Curling up in the bed sheets, I reviewed the events of the day, like I always did. Training today had been successful. I had gotten better with a sword, learned new survival tips, and –the part that my mind had been replaying over and over again- I had perfected archery.

For some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about that. When Malfoy's skin touched mine, it had felt like I had been burned, but not at all in a bad way. It was in a way that kept me longing for more.

But that was impossible. I mean, this is Malfoy we're talking about. Surely, he couldn't stand touching me. And even if he had felt that burning magnetism, we couldn't be together even if we wanted to. Heck, I couldn't be with Harry if I wanted to. It wouldn't turn out well. One of us would have to hurt each other eventually.

We'd _all_ get hurt eventually. More hurt then we already were.

The second week of training wasn't that good for me. I found myself crying the whole night, only getting a couple hours of sleep. During training hours, I would only visit a few stations, less than usual. Now, it was Friday again and the Games were to start next week _Wednesday_. Just great. I'd be lucky to stay in for a few seconds. At dinner, Professor McGonagall came in, with papers in hand. Her face was tired, weary, and her pointy hat was sagging somewhat. We all stopped our eating to face her, where she stood at the front of the room.

"Evening, students," she addressed us with a warm smile. "I'm here tonight to inform all of you that tomorrow you must be awake by 7 AM. By 7:15, you will be taken to your personal design team. You will be given a - ahem - new look. They will have you ready with your costume and makeup by 10:30. At 11:00 you will have an interview with Daily Prophet reporters which will be magically broadcasted all over the wizarding world. Clear?" Everyone nodded.

"Professor?" Harry asked, requesting her attention.

"Yes, Potter?"

"What's the interview about?"

"Why, your views on the Games, things like that."

"Oh," Harry said, nodding. Professor McGonagall exited the room without another word, leaving us speechless. 7:00? That meant I'd probably have 1 hour of sleep, counting on how long it would take me to fall asleep. "Bet that's going to be brutal," Harry muttered to me. I nodded in response, gulping down my glass of water. All of a sudden I felt warm, overwhelmed, like someone had raised the temperature in the room. Maybe it was because I had just been reminded that _this is all real_, and I'll be fighting for my life in just a few days.

"I'm going to uh, catch up on my sleep," I muttered to Harry, pushing my chair back from the table and standing up. "G'night, Harry."

"Good night, Hermione." I could feel his concerned gaze burning into the back of my head. I exited the large dining room, and climbed up the large marble staircase. The Gryffindor common room was empty, and I sighed gratefully as I fell onto my plush bed, sinking into dreams about silver eyed boys.

The next morning I woke around 6:45. _Crap_, I thought. I've got to get ready. I took a quick shower and brushed through my thick hair, pulling on jeans and a plain black tank top. Exactly at 7:15, a light knock sounded on my door. I opened it cautiously. A young woman, possibly 20, stood there, beaming excitedly. She had short, black hair that flared in every direction, and heavy, extravagant makeup, and wore an orange dress. She was very cute looking.

"Hi!" she greeted me, linking an arm through mine. She started to walk me out of my room. I noticed Harry being escorted by another pretty looking girl. He winked at me and I smiled. "I'm Chloe. You're Hermione, yes?" I nodded. Her smile grew wider. "Oh, this will be so much fun!" I wanted to remove my arm from hers then. _Fun?_ They were dressing us days before we would be fighting for our lives. And in whatever ridiculous task they had conjured up, it wouldn't matter how our hair looked. I was quiet the whole way as Chloe led me down the marble stairs and down the right hallway. I had never been through here before. It led to a very grand, fancy sitting room, with one door on the opposite side. Chloe led me through that door. This door led to four more doors, each color coated, of course. I was brought through the crimson door, which _of course_ led to four more doors. Chloe opened the first door on the left and beckoned me to go inside. I did, slowly, and found myself in a _very _large room. More than half the size of the Great Hall. There was a bunch of people, surrounding something I couldn't walls of the room were mirrors, and the whole backside of the room was filled with racks and racks of clothing. In the middle of the room was a stool in front of a vanity, filled with countless beauty supplies of wizarding and muggle brands. Once Chloe shut the door behind us, everyone in the room snapped to attention. The big group of people slowly parted, revealing what they had been crowding. It was a woman, who was clearly full of half veela. She was the most beautiful lady I'd ever seen. She was tall, and skinny. Her hair was purely golden, pulled to one side of her head and fastened with jewels. She wore a deep blue dress that fell to just above her thighs, revealing her impossibly long legs. Her features were sharp, pointed, and severe. She eyed me up and down, and I shifted uncomfortably. Then, her pink lips broke into a smile.

"You'll be perfect," she told me with gleaming eyes. Several people led me over to the stool in front of the vanity. I perched on the edge. "I am Anya," the lady told me. "I am your design team leader." Then, she clapped her hands twice and exclaimed something in perfect French. Immediately, three people darted to me, while the others continued busying themselves. One of the three handed me a pair of black shorts. I looked at her quizzically. She gestured for me to put them on. I sighed, glancing around nervously, and as quick as I could, I traded my jeans for the flannel shorts. Without even a word from me, they laid me on my back on a conjured table.

"Just relax," one of the three girls told me warmly. Something about her smile made me trust her, so I shut my mouth and laid back as they performed countless spells on my body, making my skin tingle and feel numb for a bit. "You may look, now, Ms. Granger," the same girl advised me. She took my hand and helped me up, spinning me around to face the mirrored wall. I gasped.

All the skin that was visible had been turned a startling, yet beautiful shade of pale. It glowed in contrast with my dark clothing and chestnut brown hair. It didn't look too much like a vampire's or too pale as if I was sick. It looked inhumanely beautiful, perfect. Anya sauntered over with a finger on her pink full lips, smiling.

"It's perfect!" she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows. "She's perfect! We'll need to start on hair, now." She shouted something in French again, and three different people came towards me, smiling. They introduced themselves as Cleo, Casie, and Cale. They all seemed very bubbly and friendly. I sat down on the stool, closing my eyes as they fussed over my hair. I could feel various products being thrown in, and spells transforming it to whatever they pleased. Usually I would be protesting and annoyed. But now, what did it really matter?

So I let them tug and pull and stick pins in and yank them out. And after an hour, which felt like 3 hours to me, they were done.

"Oh, you're beautiful!" one of them exclaimed.

"Open your eyes, take a look!" So I did. And I couldn't believe what I saw. I immediately broke into a smile. My hair had been grown out, so that it reached right above my waist now. Also, my curls had been replaced with thick waves that twisted and snared. The front of my hair had been pulled back in a complicated, intricate way, with braids and twists to connect in the back of my head, just to let the bottom half of my hair fall down my back. Gold rhinestones had been placed in random places and glowed against the brown of my hair.

"Thanks," was all I could manage. The three girls giggled and once again Anya strode over to observe. She took in every detail, sifting her long fingers through the tendrils of hair delicately. Finally, she nodded and smiled.

"It's just right. Now, go, I must do her makeup." The three girls dispersed, leaving me to face Anya nervously. She was so beautiful and keen, it made me fidgety. She conjured up a seat for herself, and sat opposite of me. "Hermione, right? May I call you Hermione? It's a lovely name."

"Oh, of course," I responded shakily.

"So, Hermione," Anya started, her smile warm and interested, "you're a Gryffindor, yes?" I nodded. "That's wonderful. Brave, they're known for. Now, I think I know some of the things you've been thinking. You probably think all this pampering is for nothing, yes?" Anya asked. I didn't response. "But darling, you're wrong. When the people of the wizarding world see how beautiful, fierce you look, they'll support you in these Games. They'll want _you_ to win. As a result, they will become what are called sponsors. When you find yourself in need throughout the different tasks, the sponsors will be able to send in a few supplies for you. Understand?" I nodded my head once again. "Now you see why appearance is important, yes?"

"Yes, I do," I responded. Now it all donned on me.

"Well, let's get to makeup!" Anya exclaimed, standing and clapping her hands. I reassumed my position of closing my eyes and relaxing my face. Anya slapped God knows what on my face and performed charms that would doubtlessly leave me speechless if I opened my eyes. I could feel Anya tracing along the rims of my eyes with something sharp. I could feel her dusting powder onto my eyelids, inking my lips with something wet. It took _forever_.

"Anya?" I voiced cautiously.

"Hmm?"

"I have a question, and I think you know the answer…"

"Go for it, darling."

"Well, what if more than two people… die… in one level?" I asked slowly. Anya chuckled darkly.

"The Gamemakers –the ones who design the tasks- they won't let that happen. Plus, Avada Kedavra isn't allowed in the Games. They want to keep it to only two decreases to keep up the suspense."

"Oh," was all I could muster. That was sick. To keep up suspense? So that was it. These Games were just entertainment for the Superiors, Voldemort, and his loyal followers. They were just a way of showing that they have complete power over us, and we can't do anything but go along with it. After a very long while, it seemed Anya had finished with my makeup.

"You can open your eyes, dear," she notified me with a chuckle. I wasn't so sure if I wanted to. Would I like what I saw? I didn't know.

"Can I wait until I'm fully done?" I asked in a small voice. Anya chuckled again and performed a spell.

"Now open your eyes." I did, and all the mirrors had been blacked out. I exhaled.

"Thanks." Anya just smiled, took my hand, and pulled me to the countless racks of clothes. She led me to one certain rack that held nothing but dress after dress of different colors. Anya sifted through each dress, speculating it carefully. Finally, she came to a deep crimson dress and beamed. I couldn't get a very good look at it. She handed the dress to a young girl behind her and led us to a closet off the side of the room. The mirrors in here had been blacked out as well. The young girl handed Anya the dress and muttered something in French. Anya nodded and waved her hand dismissively.

"You don't mind changing in front of me, do you?" Anya asked me. I shook my head. Did I really have a choice? So I stripped down to my underwear, thankful I had been wearing a strapless bra already. Anya helped me into the dress. It was soft, made of silk, with layers of tulle beneath it to give it some volume. She also then handed me strappy black heels that I slipped on carefully. Then, she reversed her charm, and the mirrors reflected me.

I gasped.

Maybe we should start with the dress. It was a deep, blood red that contrasted beautifully and shockingly with my pale skin. It was strapless, and the top was cut into two points that had a dip in between that ended inches above my belly button, exposing snow white skin. The whole torso part was fitted, but then flowed out smoothly, ending right above the ground. Anya twisted me around. My back was exposed, the cut ending right above my waist.

And then my makeup. My eyes were outlined with black and my eyelids had been dusted with gold glitter, making them look bigger yet narrower. My eyelashes were full, thick, darker. My cheeks were donned with blush and my lips were as red as my dress.

And I've never said this much, but I looked beautiful. Terrifyingly beautiful. Natalie Aislinn beautiful. _Slytherin_ beautiful. Now I knew what Anya had meant about making me look fierce, capable of winning the Games.

"Thank you," I breathed out hoarsely. "It's beautiful."

"_You're _beautiful, dear," Anya corrected me, sweeping me out of the closet. Everyone looked to me with admiring and accomplished faces, grinning happily. I couldn't help but grin back. "One last thing," Anya said to me. She snapped her fingers, and a young lady handed her something gold and sparkling. It was a small tiara that was shaped into golden vines laced with thorny roses. She very carefully placed it up on my head, then leaned back to examine it. She beamed, flashing sparkling white teeth. She exclaimed something in French that I knew meant _perfection_. "It's now 10:15. Chloe, if you would please escort her down to the arena?" That's where the interviews were being held? Wow. Chloe smiled at me and took my hand, leading me through the large room and out the door. The halls were empty as we made it through the large house. She led me outside, where the air was cool and breezy. There had been a concrete path built, leading down to the arena. I gasped for the millionth time when I saw what it had been transformed into. In the middle of the arena was a high, _very_ high raised platform. There was a staircase leading up to the top. And surrounding the main, larger circular platform were sixteen connecting platforms, though smaller. On each platform was a plush armchair, and on the middle platform were two armchairs. Connecting the smaller platforms to the large one were concrete catwalks, supported by tall cement poles. Surrounding the arena were the usual, tall stands, that the audience would watch from. I couldn't move, even when Chloe pulled me toward the high, winding staircase.

"Don't worry, Hermione. You can't fall. There's a transparent encasing around all the platforms." That helped a bit. So I walked slowly behind her. We walked beneath the high catwalks and platforms. I felt like they would fall on me. As I climbed the staircase, Chloe held up my dress so it wouldn't drag. When we reached the top, we had emerged onto the main, middle platform. I was the last one to arrive, apparently. I took in everyone's appearance in awe. Harry looked extravagant, in a crimson suit and gold tie. His hair had been styled and done perfectly to frame his face. Also, he had lost the glasses. He beamed at me, got up from his armchair, and walked the concrete pathway to the middle platform.

"Scary, these things are. It's very high," he said. But he reached an arm out, and it connected with an invisible wall. "But it's supposedly safe." He shrugged and smiled at me again. He reached up to touch the golden tiara on my head.

"You look very beautiful Hermione," he told me, taking his hand back. I could feel myself blushing.

"Thanks Harry. You too," I said with a chuckle. I cast my gaze around. Everyone else looked absolutely beautiful as well, dressed in their House colors. Dominique was clad in a gold dress with crimson accents, Jacob had on a golden suit with a red tie. But the Slytherins looked most extraordinary. Isabella wore a black, flowing dress that had layers beneath of silver and green. Her red hair was piled up on her head, braided with emerald strips of silk. Zabini had on a dark emerald suit and black tie. Natalie Aislinn looked utterly breathtaking. Her dress was a shining silver that hugged her body perfectly, highlighting her perfect curves. Her black, pin straight hair was pulled to one side of her head, held by emerald colored jewels, similar to Anya's. She was glaring daggers at me.

But the most stunning looking of them all was Malfoy, and I couldn't deny it as much as I wanted to. He was wearing a black suit with an emerald colored tie. Though the outfit wasn't very different from his usual getup, he somehow looked different. His eyes seemed to glow more intensely than usual. His mouth was curved into his usual smirk. His hair had changed, though. It was no longer slicked back. It was combed to perfectly frame his sharp, aristocratic features, ending right before his grey eyes and perfectly disheveled. When his eyes met mine, I immediately looked away, not wanting to be caught staring at him. I let Harry lead me down the concrete path that led to my platform. I sat down nervously, smoothing out the dress. Harry pecked me on the cheek before going back to his platform.

Then I was alone with my swirling thoughts, sitting about two stories high on a concrete platform in a ball gown. I craned my neck to take a good look around. People were slowly filling the stands, and I saw a few familiar faces. No sign of Ron or other Gryffindors.

"Looking for your boyfriend, Granger?" I heard a familiar voice drawl. I swiveled my head around to face Malfoy, who was leaning against the transparent wall, his arms crossed, and his trademark smirk adorning his face. I tried my best to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor. He looked even better this close up. I stood slowly, careful not to step on the material of the dress. I arranged my face into a scowl.

"As a matter of fact, yes I am," I retorted.

"Well, sorry to rain on your parade," Malfoy started, "but he'll probably dump you the moment he sees you." I gasped.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you look like you could rip out someone's innards and drink their blood right about now," he informed me in a tone that suggested it should have been obvious. I took a step closer and narrowed my eyes.

"That's only because I'm looking at you, Malfoy," I hissed, my hands curling into fists.

"Come on, you can't have believed me," Malfoy said exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. My scowl faltered a bit.

"Excuse me?"

"Have you looked in the mirror, Granger?"

"I have, as a matter of fact," I said, sniffing.

"So, you know how incredible you look right now," Malfoy said pointedly, raising his eyebrows. My heart skipped a beat, but then I cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh, don't think I don't know what you're doing," I hissed at him. "_Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer?_ Nice try. I'm not an _idiot_, Malfoy."

"Like I needed you to tell me that Granger," he scoffed. "Look, I came over here to tell-"

"I really don't care what it is," I spat. Malfoy narrowed his eyes, spun on his heel and strode away, his head held high. Like it'd really matter what he was going to tell me.

The stands were filling up now and I noticed a bunch of people in Gryffindor colors. I waved at them. I could now identify Ron, with his bright shock of red hair. He beamed at me dreamily and waved. I smiled back and settled into my arm chair. After the stands had all filled up, a man emerged onto the main platform. He had white short cropped hair and a nice, friendly face, the face of a professional politician. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and a light blue tie. He waved at the crowd and spoke, his voice magically ringing throughout the stadium without muggle contraptions like microphones.

"Good day, everyone!" he called out, clasping his hands behind his back and turning so that he could see everyone. "I am Nicholas Scholiar! I will be your hostess tonight, interviewing our 16 _beautiful _contestants. Aren't they beautiful?!" He immediately got on the crowd's good side, and they all shouted out responses. "OK! So, I've been informed we're starting by houses from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and then, Gryffindor. So come on over, _Kirsten Cyrus!"_ I watched as Kirsten, clad in a yellow silk dress with a sheer layer of black on top. She took the seat opposite of Nicholas, fidgeting nervously with her hair and fingers. Nicholas fired off with the questions, some about Kirsten and some about what she thought about the Games and so on. Kirsten was very shy, only giving a few words as an answer. Finally, the Huffelpuffs had all gone, and Jane Rosen of Ravenclaw was now answering questions. She was a bit shy, but gave more insight into her answers. She seemed very plain, though. Avril Sedrid was next. She was a very open and seemingly happy girl. Finally, it came to the Slytherins. Natalie was up first. The crowd cheered and whooped for her, most of them Slytherins. She was absolutely striking. She took her seat and gave her winning smile.

"So, Natalie, how do you like Hogwarts?" Nicholas asked.

"Oh, I just love it there. It's a great environment to grow up in," she gushed, faking politeness.

"I'm sure! Now tell me, what do you like best about being a Slytherin?"

Something gleamed in Natalie's icy blue eyes before she answered. "We're all very determined and hard working. We never give up," she explained thoroughly and fervently. I half listened as the Slytherins put on fake smiles and answered politely to Nicholas. And then it was Malfoy's turn, and I was completely tuned in.

"Draco Malfoy!" Nicholas bellowed, standing and giving him a firm hand shake. Malfoy gave a big grin, and absently, my hand flew to my thudding heart. I quickly placed it back on my lap, looking around to see if anyone had noticed. No one was looking at me strangely, thank God. Actually, people were, but mostly in a dreamy way. Draco and Nicholas both took their seats then, and Nicholas fired off with the interrogations.

"So, Draco, how did your training weeks go?"

"Oh, they were great."

"What skill do you think you mastered?"

"It turned out I'm quite a natural at archery."

"Is that so? How brilliant! Now, do you think that will help you during the Games?"

"Absolutely, I've got perfect aim." Nicholas chuckled at that, and the crowd joined in.

"I'm positive you do, m'boy. Now, what do you think will be hardest for you in the Games? Hurting friends?"

"Yes, of course. But in a way, I know I _have_ to win. So it won't be as hard as I think it will be. I'm a Slytherin, after all," Malfoy clarified, with a dark chuckle. Everyone else chuckled good naturedly.

"So, Draco, what do you think are your family's views on you being chosen?" Malfoy's eyes hardened, but his voice stayed calm.

"I think they are confident in me, that I will be able to go home to them in the end." Nicholas nodded thoughtfully.

"Now, tell us, do you have a _girl_ to go home to as well? A handsome lad like yourself!" Nicholas exclaimed with a hearty chuckle. I snapped my head up, my ears dying to here his answer. My heart panged with jealousy, and I told myself mentally to stop being so foolish. I don't care anyways. I've got a boyfriend, no need to be jealous of some girl.

"Actually," Malfoy started, running a hand through his hair, "no, I haven't."

"Oh, no, no, no! I can see it in your eyes! Tell us who's the lucky girl!" Nicholas urged, leaning forward. It seemed the crowd was listening interestedly as well.

"Well I like her, but it's complicated. See, I can't exactly 'go home to her.'"

"Now, why would that be?" Nicholas asked, befuddled. I wasn't. I knew what he meant. He couldn't _go home to her_, because she was Natalie Aislinn. Malfoy sighed.

"Because, she's in the Games as well." Everyone in the crowd gasped, along with the other 16 contestants and Nicholas. But not me. Nicholas put a hand on his chest.

"Oh, that's terrible. Who is the young lady?" Malfoy was quiet for a long time, staring at his hands. Why didn't he just spit it out? If I were a boy dating Natalie Aislinn, I wouldn't hesitate to proclaim it to the world.

"She's a Gryffindor," Malfoy stated, and immediately my head swiveled to Dominique, whose head had swiveled to me with a questioning expression. It didn't seem to be her… there were no other Gryffindor girls in the Games. What was Malfoy getting at? And once he continued, my heart was pounding full force. "Her name's Hermione. Hermione Granger."

The crowd gasped, and this time, I did too.


	5. On An Impulse

"_All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better." _

_Ralph Waldo Emerson _

The crowd erupted in whispers. I didn't dare look over at Granger, afraid of her reaction. God, let her go along with the plan. If only she had let me finish what I had to say instead of spitting venom at me. Guess I couldn't blame her. We _were_ mortal enemies after all. Mortal enemies aren't supposed to go declaring they love their enemy. So I could only imagine her expression. Nicholas Scholiar, that irritating chattermouth, shook his head like he actually cared about my feelings.

"Well, my boy, I sure do hope things work out fine," he said with a tone that suggested he was done interrogating me. I nodded and stood, walking back to my platform, my head held high. Nicholas called on Dominique Estelle then, the first Gryffindor contestant. I didn't even pay attention. I had caught granger's eye and I was half convinced her glare would burn through my skull. I discreetly tried to convince her with my eyes to go along with it and not push me off the platform. She crossed her arms stubbornly and looked away, apparently getting the message. She was the last to be called and I watched with interest as she catwalked to the main platform, looking like some kind of European supermodel. Scratch that. I meant, looking like some muggleborn bookworm Gryffindor. Her and Nicholas shook hands and she took her seat carefully.

"So, Hermione, what do you like most about being a Gryffindor?" He started off. Oh, I knew this one. _We're all sweet and love each other rainbows puppies unicorns hearts hugs blah blah blah bravery courage blah. _

"Well, it's just like a big family. Everyone sticks up for each other," she answered knowingly. Nicholas nodded.

"The house of courage and bravery, yes? Oh I can see it now. Any Gryffindor can go far in this contest." I could practically feel the Slytherin's bristling. I rolled my eyes. "So, how does it feel to have your _best friend _as an opponent?" Nicholas asked, leaning forward.

"Well," Granger started carefully, "We both know that in the end we're just going to have to do what's best for ourselves and there's no hard feelings because it's not as if we chose to fight against one another…" Nicholas nodded, very tuned into the conversation.

"Now, another of your opponents just confessed he fancies you. How does that feel?" I held my breath, and the crowd became silent. Granger's eyes flickered to mine before she answered slowly.

"It just made me notice that I feel the same way," she responded coolly, seriously. I breathed out in relief. She really was intelligent. The crowd once again erupted into whispers. I didn't dare look around, afraid I would catch the furious eyes of Gryffindors or Slytherins.

"Oh, goodness," Nicholas said with a sigh. "I hope all goes well for you two. Anyways, on an easier subject, what would you say is your best skill?"

"Mortal combat," Granger answered without skipping a beat.

"Oh?" Nicholas seemed surprised. "I never would have thought! How do you think you got so well in that certain practice?" Granger seemed to think that one over.

"During the summers I joined many…muggle…activities and sports." That surprised me to the tenth power. Granger? Doing sports? I always thought she'd spend her summers in her bedroom or library, her nose in a book.

"Really now? Wow, what type of sports?" I was dying to know as well.

"Soccer, swimming, cross country," Granger replied smoothly. I knew swimming. I had heard of soccer. Cross country? What the heck?

"How does it feel being the only muggleborn in the Games?" Nicholas inquired.

"To me, it doesn't really matter that I'm a muggleborn. In the end, all that will matter is who's willing to fight for their lives the most."

I knew she was wrong in an instant. It may not matter to her, but it sure would matter to the Superiors. And they'd do absolutely anything to make sure she wouldn't have the choice to fight for her life.

After the interviews and when the stands had mostly been emptied, we were allowed to go back to our dormitories. Each contestant sighed happily and headed towards the concrete winding staircase. Potter immediately helped Granger with her dress, holding up the excess fabric so she wouldn't trip over it as she walked. She gave him a gracious smile and they started to the staircase. Halfway there, a voice called out from the big plush armchair.

"Potter!" Nicholas bellowed happily. "Come, my boy! I've always wanted to have a conversation with you! Longbottom's right hand man, yes?" Potter looked absolutely annoyed, but he obliged, giving Granger an apologetic smile. He handed her the fabric and sat down across Nicholas. I absent mindedly rushed forward, taking the fabric out of Granger's hands. She looked up, glaring daggers at me. But she gave in, then swiveled around and headed for the staircase. Everyone else had descended already.

"Start explaining, ferret," Granger hissed, her back to me as she walked down the stairs with hard, stomping steps.

"Patience is a virtue," I snapped back. She turned to face me, an angry scowl on her face. She had turned with one foot down and one up, causing her to loose her footing. Just as she was about to tumble down and bring me with her, I lurched forward and snared my arm around her waist, pulling her up to the step I was occupying. "Damn Granger, could you not be such a clutz?" My arm was sizzling where it was touching her exposed skin. She twisted out of my grip and once again started her descent.

"Why am I even doing you a favor?" she grumbled.

"My good looks and charm, I'm sure."

"Hah!" she exclaimed, "You've got about as much charm as a dead frog, Malfoy."

"You're one to talk. I know Weasle's not much of a ladie's man, but still, I have no idea why he's settled for _you_," I retorted as I reached the last step. Granger was about to make a retort, but she fell silent as she caught sight of a silhouette standing in the exit of the Quidditch pitch. I could distinctly make out a shock of red hair. Of course. Granger lurched forward, wrenching her dress out of my hands. She ran, gathering her dress around her ankles, and flung herself into Weasley's arms. Disgusting. I had watched them snog enough times to make me vomit. Once he placed her back on her feet, he leapt at me, grabbing my suit and shoving me against the stone wall. I kept my smirk in place.

"What game are you playing, Malfoy?" the redhead hissed at me.

"None of your business," I hissed back.

"It sure as hell is my business!" Geeze, he sure has a temper. "She's my girlfriend, damn it!"

"You were probably in shock when you heard the part where she confessed she _felt the same way_," I retorted haughtily. Weasley's grip loosened as he glanced back at Granger. Her face was simply anxious.

"Ron, I can explain. Just not now," she pleaded, stepping forward and grabbing his hand. She pulled him to her. "Don't worry about it," she said, giving him a kiss on the lips. Ew times 100. I turned on my heel and started up the path to the dorm, leaving Granger and the weasel to drown in their gushy gushy lovefest. Where was Pansy anyway? Wasn't she supposed to be trailing after me telling me she loved me, like she usually did? Whatever. Admirers didn't matter right now. Inside the house, I could hear loud talking from the left hallway, where everyone was eating. I wasn't at all hungry, so I made my way up to my room. The Slytherin common room was empty, thank God. No one was there to interrogate me on my "infatuation" of Hermione Granger. Just as I opened the door to my room, the common room door burst open, slamming the wall. Granger stood in the entrance, completely livid. She shut the door behind her and locked it with a short spell. Then she leaned against it, crossing her arms and staring at me accusingly.

"Now explain," she spat. I shut my bedroom door behind me. I sighed and started my explanation.

"Okay, first of all, I don't like my father. I absolutely loathe him. Don't you ask why Granger because _that's_ none of your business," I started off. "I'm basically tired of him planning out my whole life for me, telling me I'm useless, etc etc. You'd think he'd pull me out of these Games somehow, since he's a Superior and all. But this is a way of him punishing me for all my failures. So, I'm going to use the Games as a way of revenge. I'm going to show him I'm no useless brat. _Don't give me that look; I don't need your pity_." Granger flinched at the venom in my voice. Good. "Also, since you're muggleborn and all, me confessing my undying love-"

"Not love. You only said you _liked_ me," Granger interjected. I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever, like, love. Same difference."

"You honestly believe that? God, you're an idiot Malfoy," Granger retorted, rolling _her_ eyes now.

"_Anyways_, since my families all prejudiced, me saying I _like_ you will only anger him further-"

"GOD DAMNIT MALFOY!" Hermione erupted, stomping forward and stopping about a foot from me.

"What?!" I asked, shocked. What did I do now?

"YOU ARE _SO_ SELF ABSORBED! ALL YOU'RE CONCERNED ABOUT IS DADDY PAYING ATTENTION TO YOU. DID YOU EVER NOTICE HOW MUCH DANGER YOU'RE PUTTING ME THROUGH?!" She yelled, her hands curling into fists. I clapped a hand over her mouth and shushed her. She jerked away. "_Don't touch me!_ You're father could come waltzing in here and bloody _KILL_ me for fancying you!" Then, to my complete surprise, she started screaming in… German? What a lunatic.

"What the hell are you doing Granger?" She turned on me then, her eyes blazing. Wow. She had nice eyes. Golden almost. No no no no noooo. More like mud.

_Golden mud._

"You are _such_ a git!" she screamed, her breath heavy.

"Okay, look," I began, scrambling for words. She actually had a point (surprise). I had put her in complete danger. "You'll have some type of benefit, really. I'll protect you or something and in the future, I don't know, I'll go easy on you in the Games or something!"

"Fine," she declared, defeated. "What do I have to do?"

"Nothing. Just play hard to get or something. I'll be the one groveling after you." Her face lit up at that.

"Who would've thought," she mused, pleased, "Draco Malfoy groveling after a _Gryffindor_, let alone a muggleborn one. This'll be fun." I didn't like the menace in her voice. Scary thoughts drifted into my mind.

_Like you'll care if she pummels you. You'd enjoy it. Especially if she was wearing that dress, _a voice in my mind drawled. I growled in my mind. Granger gave me a smirk that rivaled my own. And that was saying something. Then I scowled.

"Don't go getting a big head, Granger," I snapped.

"Worried it'll be a match for _yours_, Malfoy?" she jeered. "Don't worry. That's not possible."

"You Gryffindors think you're so righteous." I rolled my eyes.

"And you Slytherins think you're so admirable," she retorted.

"If I were you Granger, I wouldn't be insulting Slytherins while on their territory." She didn't have a response to that one. Victory! "You can leave now."

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do!"

"So you don't want to leave?"

"UGH!" she stomped out of the room, slamming the door forcefully behind her. I guess _all_ Gryffindors have a bad temper?

I didn't even dare to go down to dinner several hours later. I wasn't _afraid_. You should know Slytherins are never afraid. I just didn't know how to explain it to the other Slytherins. But I should've known I couldn't run from it, because at around 10:00 PM, my door was being knocked on continuously. And quite frantically.

"DRACOOOOOO!" people were screaming. Natalie, I could tell. I groaned and wrenched open the door.

"What?!" I demanded. Natalie, Isabella, and Blaise stood there. Natalie and Isabella looked absolutely enraged. Blaise looked more… amused. Natalie pushed past me, followed by the other two. I shut the door and exhaled.

"Explain," Natalie stated. Hmm, dejavu.

"What is there to explain?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. Natalie and Isabella's mouths dropped open. Blaise just snickered.

"_What is there to- _You're kidding me!" Isabella exclaimed incredulously. Natalie narrowed her eyes.

"Guess I was right. Knew you always fancied the mudblood," she hissed.

"Yes, I always have," I lied.

"Just be careful Draco. Remember, she's got _dirty_ blood," Isabella sneered. Something about that pushed me over the edge, and I whipped out my wand and pointed it in their direction.

"Don't you dare insult her in front of me, Rocford," I growled. Isabella glared back. "Now get out of my room." She did, flipping her hair over her shoulder and darting out the door. Blaise just chuckled darkly, patted me on the shoulder and walked out. Natalie followed, but before she closed the door she turned to look at me, her eyes hard and fiery.

"Be careful Draco. I don't exactly know what it is you're up to, but it _better_ not disgrace all of Slytherin," she warned me threateningly. I just slammed the door in her face and locked it behind me, collapsing onto my bed. I willed myself to sleep, all the while trying to convince myself that when I defended Granger, it had all been part of the act.

**A/N: hope it was good! I need lots & lotsa reviews if you want me to continue. Recommend it to your friends! In need of support. **


	6. Let the Flames Begin

"_What a shame we all became _

_Such fragile broken things_

_A memory remains just a tiny spark_

_I give it all my oxygen _

_To let the flames begin."_

_-Paramore, Let the Flames Begin _

Sunday passed on slowly and all 16 of us were allowed to rest up. We had been told the first level of the Games would take place on Tuesday, and continue most likely onto Wednesday. Just thinking about it raised Goosebumps on my arms. We would be given 3 to 4 days in between each level for optional training. My head was filled with anxious thoughts. I mean, not only did I have to worry about making it to the second level, but Lucius Malfoy probably wanted me dead for embarrassing his family. I was positive that he wouldn't just stride into our dorm and _Avada Kedavra_ me. That wouldn't bring him the satisfaction he desired. He'd probably find a way for the Gamemakers to have me ripped limb from limb. Or starve, bleed, or freeze to death. I choose none of the above, thanks.

On Monday night at dinner, my worries grew. Towards the end of the meal, McGonagall strode in stiffly. She looked more put together than usual. Lately she looked bedraggled and restless. Now she looked her normal self. Neat and tidy crisp robes, pointy hat perched on her head perfectly, chin raised, hair in a tight bun, hands clasped behind her back.

"Evening, contestants," she addressed us. "As you are all aware of, your first task will be held tomorrow at noon. You were told it would last until Wednesday night. That is unaccounted for, due to the fact that if two contestants be eliminated earlier or later than the set time, the end time of the task will be changed. Now, I am here to inform you of tomorrow's task." Everyone stopped what they had been doing, McGonagall possessing their full attention. "Two houses will be chosen," she started off regally, "and the students of those two houses will be… morphed, transformed into hybrid animals. The remaining eight of the other two houses will stay in their human forms, forced to rely on 8 spells and whichever weapons and supplies they are able to attain. The arena will be magically transformed into a large forest and the audience is welcome to stay overnight or return the next day in the morning. Mind you, you will not see them. Overhead you will see only the sky, as if you are not in a Quidditch pitch at all. Also, the killing curse is _not_ permitted." _Because that wouldn't provide much entertainment for the Superiors_, I finished her sentence. No one moved, not sure if she was finished. She gave a grand wave of her wand and a curt nod. At each house's table, a strip of parchment fluttered to the middle of the table. I lunged to grab the one that my table received. My housemates huddled around me, reading over my shoulder.

_Humanus_.

"Humans," I whispered, translating the Latin into English. This was just fantastic. Staying human wouldn't give us much advantage against super animals. I let Harry have the paper and glanced around attentively. The Hufflepuffs were frowning, Kirsten tearing up. The Ravenclaws were grinning. I looked over to the Slytherins. Malfoy was smirking at me, the other Slytherins sniggering and baring perfect white teeth.

Guess I knew who were going to be morphed. I glared and turned back around in my seat. I dropped my head into my hands, sighing. A hand on my shoulder got me to snap my head up, looking behind me. Malfoy stood there, grinning wolfishly. I stood up and crossed my arms, half aware of everyone watching.

"What?" I asked assertively.

"I take it you got human," he smirked, showing me his paper.

_Beatitus _

Latin for felines.

I shoved the paper back at him. "Doesn't change the fact that I'm definitely going far in these Games," I snapped, narrowing my eyes. His smirk grew wider. _If that was possible_. Then his grey eyes darkened, a glint of confusion sparking in them. I raised an eyebrow.

"Follow me?" he requested in a louder tone. Now, I was fully aware of everyone's eyes boring into my flesh. "Play along," he commanded in an undertone. I tried not to groan and forced a small smile, grabbing his arm and pulling him out to the main foyer. Once we left the skeptical stares, I let go of his jacket sleeve, wiping my hand on my jeans reflexively. He rolled his eyes. "I don't have _cooties_, Granger," he spat.

"Oh, shove it, Malfoy," I retorted, throwing myself in one of the armchairs. Malfoy snickered and took the one beside me. I shifted to sit as far from him as the chair allowed.

"You've got quite the tongue."

"Don't go talking about my tongue, Malfoy."

"I'm just saying," he said, "I mean, the way you talk, you've got such a sharp tongue. Don't know how Weasley survives snogging you," he trailed off, shrugging. I pushed up from the chair tiredly, more than ready to leave Malfoy and throw off this whole damn deal. A sharp tug pulled me back into the cushions. I glared at the blond furiously.

"It was a joke, Granger. Relax," he stated, amused. Something about his expression, how he showed that he enjoyed my anger pushed me over the edge. With my free hand, I reached out to slap his pale cheek. I cursed him for having such quick reflexes as his free hand shot out, stopping mine from colliding with his face inches away. I was about to yell at him when I noticed his right forearm that was restraining my wrist. I had forgotten all about the inflamed writing from weeks before. It hadn't even left a scar over the training weeks. But now, his pale skin was covered in red, cursive handwriting. I stood before Malfoy, stretching out his arm. Surprisingly, he didn't object, just glared at the marble floor like it had given him the injuries. I pushed his black jacket sleeve up to his biceps (which were very fit, I must add), trying to ignore the electric sensation I got from our skin contact. Then, I lowered my eyes to read the paragraph of scars.

_Your fate is in my hands, filthy blood traitor. You are pathetic and will not last three weeks in these Games. You have brought punishment to the family under the force of the Dark Lord. You have been useless, unable to live up to your first name, let alone your surname. I will use every ounce of my power to make sure you are eradicated before the end of the Games, ceasing the ignominy and shame you have bestowed upon everything that is Malfoy. You deserve to have the impure and filthy blood drained from your veins, blood that was once divine and immaculate. _

_You and your mudblood whore best be living in fear, Draco. _

"What the hell is this?" I whispered horrifically, dropping Malfoy's arm like it had stung me. But I already knew what it was. A letter from Lucius Malfoy. I sunk to the floor, unable to make it to the armchair. I couldn't breathe right. I put my head between my knees, hoping that would stop the spinning sensation. It didn't. "That's just sick," I stated hoarsely.

"The worst part is… a part of me," Malfoy started just as hoarsely and slowly, "still loves him." My head snapped up attentively. Then my eyes grew wide at how close he was. Malfoy was leaning forward, his grey eyes inches from mine. Normally I would have shouted at him or backpedaled. But now, the sadness and confusion (that he never showed, _ever_) in his eyes stopped me. So I stared right back. I have to admit, he has very nice eyes. I always thought they were just plain grey. I was wrong. They were a light grey with specks of teal blue. I had never seen anything so unique.

"Why," I croaked out in a whisper. "Why do you still love him?"

"He's my father, Hermione," he said quietly. The way he said my name was perfect, musical sounding. Malfoy shook his head, leaning back into the chair and rubbing his eyes. I could do the same. His gaze had been burning, too intense. "Though it's still a very small part that loves him, it's still there, under all the hate and disgust." I didn't know what to say, how to soothe him in a way that wasn't too emotional for our relationship. I mean, we're still mortal enemies right? Despite all this drama, we still hated each other. So what if the hate wasn't as strong as usual? It was still there.

"I'm sor-" I started hesitantly, then was cut off my a sharp cackle.

"I don't need your pity, Granger," Malfoy hissed at me. Good to know things were back to normal. I narrowed my eyes and stood up, taking the chair beside him with a grunt. We sat in an angry silence for a few minutes before we heard voices coming from the left hallway. Two voices… Bellatrix and some other shrill, high voice. "Crap, is that Bellatrix?" Malfoy whispered, alert. I nodded, unsure of what to do. "Ah… uh. Quick! Act like a couple!" Malfoy demanded. I was about to object, but the voices were louder now, just around the corner. I heaved myself over the arm of the chair and settled beside Malfoy, my legs slung over his lap. I hated this, just to let you know. Malfoy slung an arm around my shoulders, his other hand taking one of my hands and threading his fingers through mine. "Do something girlfriendy!" Malfoy demanded in a whisper. I fluttered my other hand and then settled it on his neck, noting something Ron and I usually did. But doing this with Malfoy was completely different. Once I placed my hand on his neck, electricity and excitement surged through my veins. Malfoy's eyes darkened. I smirked. He forced a grin onto his face and I did the same, just as Bellatrix emerged from the left hallway, her face twisted into a scowl. Malfoy and I just continued staring at each other, pretending to be too tied up in each other to notice anyone else. Malfoy leaned forward to whisper something in my ear. I tensed as his lips grazed my skin, his cold breath stinging.

"Pretend I've told you something charming," he whispered. I immediately started laughing and Malfoy's eyes lit up, his grin widening at my laughter. Half aware of what I was doing, I moved my hand up to his grown out hair, twirling a blond lock around my finger.

"No, Draco, see your hair is much nicer," I purred, flashing white teeth. A loud shrill giggle broke through the air. We both swiveled our heads to face Bellatrix and… oh, perfect. Rita Skitter. She already had her Quick Quotes quill scribbling away furiously in a small notepad. Rita had taken out a small camera and was snapping away frantically, her smile wide and maniacal. Bellatrix was also baring her teeth, the corners of her lips curled up in half of a smirk and half of a grin.

"Well, well, well," she sneered in her glass cutting voice, "What have we here?"

"So it's true then?" Rita interjected, unable to contain her excitement. "You're really an item! And here I always thought the little mud- _Gryffindor_ was going to have a family with Potter, nonetheless. But _this_! Oh, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor?! It's scandalous, simply remarkable!" I tried my hardest to keep my face impassive.

"I just know your father will be delighted to read the _Prophet_ at breakfast, dear _nephew_," Bellatrix hissed in a harsh and mocking tone.

"Great to see you as well, Aunt Bella," Malfoy snapped. Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

"No need to use that tone, Draco," Bellatrix retorted.

"Perhaps we've interrupted a… _moment, _Bella," Rita requested.

"Ooh, Rita, you've just crowded my mind with _filthy_ thoughts," Bellatrix cackled. "See you in the arena, Draco dear," she added. "Come along, Rita." Rita didn't look like she wanted to leave, but she followed Bellatrix out the front door, her long robes billowing behind her. She winked before she shut the door, a wink promising she wasn't finished with us. Once they were out the door, I instantly started to retract myself from Malfoy's grasp. My skin was tingling, burning. It was a good burning and I couldn't stand it anymore. When your mortal enemy touches you, you're flesh is supposed to disintegrate or something. You shouldn't be wanting more of aforementioned touch. I turned to look down at Malfoy, who was wringing his hands subconsciously, his expression impassive, thoughtful.

"I… Uh… 'Night," I ended lamely, escaping up the marble staircase and hurrying into my room. I at once knew what I needed. A hot, scorching bath. So I started the water, running it hot, and stripped down, soaking myself. The heat didn't bother me. It burned away the other type of burning that had seared my body way too many times this evening. After my bath, I pulled on my usual pajamas and brushed my teeth, glaring down my reflection in the fogged up bathroom mirror. My pale cheeks were flushed. The skin I had been given from the interview had faded slightly, but I was definitely paler than usual. My hair was different too. It was still long and curvy, swirling to my waist in chestnut locks. I brushed it out and cast a drying spell on it, then pulled it over my shoulder to braid it. It seemed everyone had a new look. Which was exactly what our stylists had wanted, I reminded myself. Harry's hair was still jet black, but it seemed tidier than usual, not so difficult. Natalie Aislinn's hair was cut in choppy layers, framing her face expertly. Malfoy's was grown out a bit and side swept in a popular style that suited him best.

I plopped onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling. Gradually, I fell asleep, knowing in the morning I'd feel impossibly worse.

I was right. I was awaken by 9, due to Harry shaking me vigorously. I looked up at him irately.

"Still tired," I grunted.

"Breakfast," Harry snapped, flinging the covers after me and wrenching open the curtains. Sunlight poured into the room. I covered my eyes and groaned, sitting up. Harry chuckled.

"Wassofunny," I mumbled through my hands.

"You're hair resembles a bird nest, that's all," he said standoffishly. I scoffed.

Breakfast was better than usual. I surprised myself by eating two helpings of half the choices. At 10:30 we were advised to meet our stylist in our personal closets. AKA the room that was the size of 15 closets. I gave Harry a hug before we parted. Anya and three brunettes were in the room, chatting in French. They looked up when I entered, smiling sweetly.

"Morning," I greeted them, only it sounded like a question.

"Hermione, doll! Morning sunshine, come on over and let's get you ready, now, yes?" Anya called out in her imperial voice. I made my way over to the group, where they sat around the big vanity in the middle of the room. Anya conjured up a seat for me. I sat down timidly, crossing my legs. "So, dear, how are you?" Anya asked, the three young ladies fixing me with expectant stares.

"Uh, just a bit nervous," I lied. I was _a lot_ nervous.

"Just remember, Hermione," Anya started seriously, "In these Games, you mustn't be afraid to hurt a competitor. You must be able to put _your_ life first, even if it means hurting someone in the process. Understand me?" I blinked, taking in her advice. It was really good advice. I nodded slowly. Anya clapped her hands together. "Alright then! Let's get you dressed." The four stylists rose, going about their duties. I sat and stared down my reflection, absently threading fingers through my hair. My eyes were rimmed with red from my few hours of restless sleep. One of the brunettes approached me, carrying clothes in her arms.

"Meez 'Ermione," she smiled, her features and accent clearly French, "'Ere eez your outfeet for Games, yez? I breeng you to dressing room." I nodded, returning her smile as I followed her to the dressing room. She shut the door behind me and handed me first a shirt. It was a black tank top made of a loose, soft material. "Zee weazarr in zee arena vill be varm and vindy, not cold." I nodded, taking the pants she handed me. It felt like leather. I raised an eyebrow. The brunette noticed. "It eez a spezial material zo that in zee night and daytime, you eez feeling comforteeble." I pulled on the pants and instantly figured out what she had been trying to explain. Though the material clung to my skin snugly, I felt cozy and comfortable, not too warm and not too cold. I slipped my wand into the back pocket. The French girl then handed me a long robe of the same material, much like the ones Quidditch players used. On the right hand side was the Gryffindor crest and on the back was a golden lion on his hind legs in mid roar. Above that was spelled out _Granger_ in bold crimson letters with golden lining. I pulled it on and decided not to tie it yet. The brunette then led me back out to the main room. Another brunette was waiting for us, carrying a pair of sleek black sturdy boots. She gestured for me to sit. Once I did, she pulled the boots onto my legs, lacing them up. After that, the third brunette approached me while the other two shuffled away.

"Ello Meez 'Ermione!" she said brightly. "I am Vandelle, and I vill be doing your makeup." I smiled in response and she got to work as I thought, _why the hell will I need makeup?_ But I didn't object. I let her pluck and draw and paint and whatever else she did. When she was done, my eyes were darker along with my lips, and I looked like I _had_ gotten sleep. Anya came over then, thanking Vandelle. She picked up a hairbrush and brushed through my hair slowly, soothingly. She only pulled it into a ponytail at the top of my head. The bottom of it brushed the middle of my back still. I stood when I was finished and faced Anya. She was smiling sadly and she took both my hands.

"You'll do well, Hermione," she assured me in her soprano voice. I nodded and could feel a tear leak out of my eye. Anya tsked and wiped away the droplet softly. "Don't show them your weakness. You're Hermione the Fierce, remember that. It is your new stage name and it is the best of them all. And it suits you perfectly. I'm going to lead you down to the foyer now." The three brunettes bid me goodbye with a kiss on each cheek. Out in the foyer McGonagall was surrounded by the other 15 contestants, shouting out orders.

"Ah, Granger!" she shouted, catching my eye. The crowd quieted down, looking over to me. They were all dressed identically, only with different house crests and names on the backs of their cloaks.

"Well, dear, this is where I leave you for now," Anya told me. She kissed me on the cheek and left, leaving me to face McGonagall and the other students.

"Granger, we are fixing our line up. Come along, come along!" McGonagall demanded, waving me over. She took me by the shoulders and steered me into line; last in line right behind Malfoy. Surprisingly, he didn't even acknowledge me. I just faced the bright silver letters of his name silently. McGonagall placed everyone else in line sternly and when we had formed a single file, she marched us out the double oak doors. I found myself thinking, _is this the last time I'll walk through those doors? Is this the last time I'll walk down this path? Is this the last time I'll enter this arch? _

Already, the stands were full, the Hogwarts students clad in their house colors. The arena hadn't been transformed yet and it was just the concrete dome it had been the first time I saw it. In the middle was a small raised platform. McGonagall formed us in a half circle around it.

"When Nicholas calls your name, you step up to the platform," she instructed us before hurrying up to the stands. Thank God I was last to go.

"Good day wizards, witches, and magical creatures alike!" Nicholas Scholiar's voice boomed out. I didn't bother looking around to locate him. "Welcome, to the first Hogwarts Magician Games!" A loud bellow of cheers followed this. "You have been given the honor to watch the _first_ level of the Games. In the first level, the Ravenclaws and the Slytherins will be transformed into super hybrid animals, while the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs are forced to survive on 8 spells and their survival skills." More cheers erupted. "Now, let's welcome our first Hufflepuff contestant, _Carson the Loyal!" _That surprised me. Not the loyal part – she is a Hufflepuff, after all – but that I just noticed now that _that_ was what Anya had meant about my stage name. That's why each person had a certain look about them during the interviews.

Carson stepped up to the platform and it started to rotate slowly, giving everyone a view of her. She looked a tad more confident than usual, though she was still fiddling with the string on her robes. After the rotating and cheers stopped, she stepped back into line.

"_Jane the Daring!" _Jane Rosen stepped up to the platform. I noticed sadly that her cheers had been much louder than Carson's.

"_Jacob the Mysterious!_" That suited the Gryffindor perfectly. His cloudy green eyes were always mysterious, baffling. I felt a surge of pride when I heard loud, screaming cheers when he stepped onto the platform.

"_Isabella the Toxin!" _That was the perfect name for her. She sauntered up cockily, smiling prettily up to the students, her red hair like a fiery halo.

"_James the Bright!" _

"_Dominique the Epic!" _

"_Kirsten the Cunning!" _the Hufflepuff girl stepped up to the platform. Cunning? That'd usually be a Slytherin. But once I caught her expression I instantly understood. She looked smart, clever.

"_Avril the Salient!" _

"_Blaise the Cutthroat!" _Oh, I don't even have to explain how well that fit him.

"_Russel the Bold!" _

"_John the Devious!"_

"_Frederick the Striker!" _

"_Harry the Valiant!"_ My best friend stepped onto the platform and was immediately met with loud, ear paining cheers, from all the houses besides Slytherin. I smiled, proud again.

"What's with the smirk, Granger?" Malfoy muttered from beside me.

"It's called a smile."

"Looks like a smirk to me," he responded as Harry stepped off the platform, smiling confidently. I didn't respond.

"_Natalie the Flame!" _The beautiful Slytherin stood on the platform with poise, grinning deviously up at the audience. Her name suited her well though. Her eyes were like blue fire, the most dangerous flames.

"_Draco the Threat!" _When his name was called, my heart went into overdrive. With his usual smirk plastered onto his face, Malfoy strutted up to the platform and took his stance, loud and raucous cheers filling the air, deafening me. And then they were calling _Hermione the Fierce_ and I couldn't breathe as I made my way up to the platform. I grinned up at the crowd. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and various people smiled down at me, cheering and pounding the air. I took my pervious standing spot with a proud smile on my face.

"_Let the task begin! Contestants, close your eyes," _Nicholas' voice rang out. I obediently did later, a monotone voice in my mind spoke. _Open_, it commanded simply. My eyelids fluttered open, my heart trying to pound a hole through my chest. I was no longer in a stone valley. Now, tall trees, like those mostly found in America towered around me. Ahead of me was a large cornucopia. And I mean large as in, enormous. It was filled with numerous supplies. I spotted many survival tools. I looked around. The 7 other human contestants were standing, dumbfounded as they stared around them. I knew better. I should take what I can before the morphed contestants found us. So I lunged forward and ran, hard. I grabbed a small black backpack and slung it over my shoulder, and a sword attached to a belt. I buckled it around my waist and grabbed a canteen of water. The other contestants were now collecting items and sprinting off. Harry was standing, hands on his hips as he surveyed a few items. I caught his eye and gave a weak smile before sprinting off. I ran my hardest, not running from anything, but running for my life all the same. Who knew? I could be running right into the location of the Ravenclaws or Slytherins. But I didn't think. I just ran to the north trees, behind the large golden horn of the cornucopia. Once under the canopy of trees, I became more alert of my surroundings. Each footfall thudded in my ears along with my reckless breathing.

_Just run,_ I kept telling myself. _Run and find shelter. _

I could hear birds chirping and it seemed to drown out every other sound. It made me frustrated. How was I supposed to know if something was about to attack if a damn bird kept singing cheerfully? I glanced behind me, relieved to find nothing stalking me. The farther I ran, the closer and taller the trees became. Few beams of sunlight shone through the leaves. I slowed, keeping close to the tree trunks. I could hear a faint trickle of water not far away. I stopped and stooped behind a bush, listening.

I couldn't hear anyone else's breathing. No twigs snapping, no footsteps, no growls. Just bird songs and the faint sound of a stream. Slowly I rose from the bush and looked around. Yup, no sign of danger. I stuffed my water bottle into the backpack and tightened the straps, then fixed the belt and sword so that it fit better. I decided not to light my wand, for fear of someone seeing the light. I just kept it in my hand as I walked in the direction the sound of the water was coming from. As I walked slowly and stayed close to the trees and bushes, I thought. If another contestant found me and declared a fight, I would fight, right? I wouldn't be scared to end their life, as long as it resulted mine a longer time period. Right? That's when I noticed; we're_ all_ enemies in this Game. We cannot afford to form an alliance. It's too risky, considering we'll have to slaughter each other in the future. Forming an alliance to fight off the dangerous animals wouldn't help either. It gave us a bigger chance of getting hurt. I don't know how long I walked. Sweat started to trickle down my forehead and neck. My feet felt sore and swollen. My mouth was parched, but I didn't dare drink my water bottle. I'd save that for emergencies. The water was getting closer. I could hear the rush. When I emerged from the trees to find a thin, shallow stream, I wanted to shout in joy. I didn't, of course. Across the thin stream was a large rock cliff, towering up over the trees. I glanced around reflexively and took a seat on the edge of the bank. I leaned against a large boulder and cupped my hands around water, bringing it to my mouth greedily.

Then I heard a loud _snap_.

I whipped my head around, alert. I scanned the trees and shadows keenly, searching for any type of movement. The birds had gone terrifyingly silent. I crouched behind the large rock, peering over the top discreetly. I went mute when I saw the source of noise. A few feet into the forest was a large animal. It was about 7 feet long and 3 feet wide. Its fur was black, shining, and its muscles rippled as it prowled. Its large head swiveled from side to side while it scanned the forest, ears pointed. Its eyes were large, orb like, and a beautiful brown. I knew those eyes. Johnathan von Taylor.

The wolf lifted his head and howled.

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